


The Unlikely Second Chance

by thisiswhyishouldntwritefanfic



Category: Heathers (1988), Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 18:19:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,346
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14407815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisiswhyishouldntwritefanfic/pseuds/thisiswhyishouldntwritefanfic
Summary: JD was convicted of murder, but then he got an unexpected second chance.





	The Unlikely Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> I made what was probably a mistake in rewatching Nikita recently. I enjoyed the show a lot, and I did watch the movies (English and French) and it's really an interesting concept, and if there was anyone Division would recruit, JD might just be one of them.
> 
> Okay, yes, he'd more likely be a cleaner, but this is what I wrote to get the concept out of my head anyway because I need to finish things, not start new ones. I know I should have done updates but couldn't, so I just did this to get it out of my system.

* * *

“Jason Dean, you have been found guilty of three counts of first degree murder,” the judge said, looking down at him like he was the scum of the earth. Hell, he didn't think there was a person in this courtroom that didn't believe it, not when they'd even convicted him of Heather Chandler's murder when that was an accident. Mostly. “It is the judgment of this court that you be sentenced to death by lethal injection.”

He heard people in the background cheering, saying this was justice, and he lifted his hand, flipping them off with the finger that was no longer there thanks to Veronica.

If that damned bomb had only gone off...

That would have been quicker, more merciful. Now he got to rot in jail for years before he finally got to die, and no one was going to spare him.

He was the monster, after all. He always had been.

He looked over at Veronica, and she met his eyes for a moment before turning away. He didn't know if that was guilt or maybe a bit of pity. She'd shot him, so she was ready for him to die, he knew that, and hell, her testimony was what damned him, but he'd still expected more from her. The courage to face him to the end, maybe.

She'd gotten the cool guy like him out of her life, though, that was for sure.

* * *

“Evening, JD,” a man's voice said, and JD jerked up, looking around the room in confusion. He didn't understand. He wasn't surprised to find strangers in his cell. He was smaller than most of the prisoners, and even death row was no real protection for him, not when he was a pretty little white boy that had to pay for the price of killing a few popular kids. 

This, though, wasn't his cell. 

“It is JD, right?” the man went on, looking at him. “Never Jason?” 

He wasn't going to answer that, even if it was. “Who are you? Where am I?” 

“Well, you're not in prison anymore,” the man answered with a thin smile. “You're not even in Ohio, although we're the only ones that know that. Your death was officially ruled a suicide by the prison coroner on November first. Your ashes are stored right here.”

JD frowned. Admittedly, he'd have chosen blowing himself up over getting arrested, tried, and dumped in here, but he wasn't dead. He hadn't committed any kind of suicide.

“My name's Michael. I work for the government. We've decided to give you a second chance.”

JD snorted. The hell they had. “Why the fuck would anyone do that?”

“Because you're a young, dangerously intelligent white male with virtually no personal ties or a paper trail,” Micheal answered. “Now, those do exist, but they're hard to come by. What really grabbed our attention, though, is how you almost got away with making those murders look like suicides.”

JD almost laughed. “I did, until Veronica betrayed me, you mean. If not for her, they'd still think Heather killed herself and that Ram and Kurt were gay. Maybe she's the one you really want. Maybe she made it all up to frame me.”

“You going to claim you're innocent?”

“I don't think that's something I've ever been, no,” JD said. “Though if you think you can pretend I'm trading that cell on death row for something better in the form of being your fuck toy, you can forget it.”

“It's not like that.”

“Yeah, sure,” JD muttered. He hadn't seen anyone show interest in him for any other reason since he got arrested. He wasn't even a good enough story to be some reporter's claim to fame. “Are we done yet? Because I have a death to get back to waiting for.”

“Your life is over, JD. I'm here to offer you a new one,” Micheal said, “but you have to be willing to earn it.”

“I already told you what I wouldn't do.”

Micheal shook his head. “No. We're talking learning. Learn to stand up straight. Learn how to walk right. Learn how to talk right. Learn how to serve your country instead of just yourself.”

“I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't have an altruistic side. In fact, I'm insane.”

“You really think that dying is better than a second chance?”

“It just might be,” JD said, and while the man didn't say it, he didn't disagree, either.

* * *

Cocktail parties were not and never would be his thing. He hated them, just like he hated most everything else in the world. Still, somewhere in Amanda's brain was a weird switch that said that he was fit for more than the role of cleaner, that he was meant for the field.

He figured it was her way of screwing with either Percy or Micheal, and he didn't care which one it was, only that he saw the light of day for more than a murder and making things disappear. He was more than willing to let someone else clean his messes if need be.

Most of the time, they didn't have to. He got the kills with messages, and he didn't bat an eye about them, not like Micheal, who was clearly wrestling with his conscience on a daily basis.

“I still don't see how anyone believes that story about _Ich Luge_ bullets,” Micheal said in his ear, and JD almost laughed but that would have broken his cover. “You need better material.”

“It works on the uneducated,” JD reminded him. “And this isn't your typical _Guns and Ammo_ crowd.”

“No, it's not,” Michael agreed. “Any sign of the target?”

JD shook his head, really wanting a cigarette right now. “No. Looks like this one's a no show.”

“Be patient. Some guests like to arrive fashionably late.”

JD snorted. Nothing fashionable about being this late. They were just assholes. He really didn't want to deal with them. He grabbed a drink off the nearest tray and started drinking, scanning the room again. He needed to do something before he got really bored and compromised the mission. Percy really didn't like it when he made mischief, and he was dangerously close to getting canceled after that prank in Madrid.

“Boys,” Birkhoff said in their ears. “Looks like our guest of honor decided to skip the party. His room key was just used to enter the suite.”

“Could be a false alarm.”

“I'll check,” JD said, already on the move before Micheal could stop him. Let that guy deal with the awkward chit chat. He found the elevator and pushed the button, tapping his foot as he waited. The car could not come fast enough.

The doors opened, and he stepped in, selecting the fourth floor and waiting again. The car started to move up, and he leaned back against the wall.

“Careful, JD,” Birkhoff said. “I'm picking up other chatter. Sounds like the CIA might have crashed our party.”

“Good times.”

“Psycho.”

He lifted his hand with the prosthetic finger and pointed it at the camera.

“Cute.”

JD smirked and went out the doors as soon as they opened. He walked down the corridor, heading for room four-thirty down at the end of the hall. He reached for his gun, taking it out and getting ready as he got closer.

He saw the door swing open, and he ducked back, hearing it click behind whoever opened it. He snuck a peek and found himself staring.

“Veronica.”

“Shit,” Birkhoff said. “Abort. Abort. Abort.”

JD took the comm out and shoved it in his pocket, not caring what Micheal or anyone else thought or what orders they'd give him. This was personal and a long time coming.

He followed her back to the elevator, putting his hand in to keep the doors from closing. She grimaced, but then she looked up and saw him. Panic flared in her eyes as she tried to make sense of what she was seeing. He kind of liked it.

He smiled at her, wide as he could. “Going down?”


End file.
